


That's What You Get For Waking Up In Mesas

by thatgirlfromasgard



Series: fluids crack fics [5]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Canon Levels of Crack, Gen, Kidnapping, etho being etho, look i just think they can use a holiday, shade-e e's subscription services
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26914879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgirlfromasgard/pseuds/thatgirlfromasgard
Summary: Joe wakes up in a place he doesn't quite recognise. What kind of nefarious schemes could have lead to that?
Series: fluids crack fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811404
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82





	That's What You Get For Waking Up In Mesas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Needleflight](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Needleflight).



> Written for Needleflight for the fourth season of the HermitKraft Gift Exchange.

There were many things in life one could never be quite sure of. The roll of a die, tomorrow’s weather, someone else’s thoughts, the list went on and on and on. Of course, there were also many things one could be reasonably sure of, either due to experience, or via extensive use of the scientific method. Those things that taught one that rainbows were simply refracted light, or that showed how redstone would behave once powered. It was those things that enabled one to learn, to progress, but most importantly, to _experience_ the world to its fullest.

Joe didn’t need the scientific method to know that he hadn’t woken up in the place he had gone to sleep in. After all, he knew he had built his winery out of blackstone, and not out of various colours of terracotta. He also knew for a fact that his winery didn’t have oaken beams supporting the ceilings, nor corners filled with cobwebs or the occasional bat flying around. No, Joe worked diligently to keep the bats shooed outside, otherwise that would pose a major health and safety risk, and gods knew he didn’t have time to deal with that kind of negativity. His wine was of the highest quality around, and he was keen to keep it that way, even if that only was because of the virtue of owning the only winery in the area. In his opinion, that was still not enough of a reason to let the quality of what he made drop, on the contrary even! As the only winemaker around, he had the task, nay, the _responsibility_ to ensure his friends would know the taste of good wines, and that was a responsibility he took seriously.

Of course, making wine had its difficulties, such as apparently waking up in a strange place unprompted, but those were problems he generally tackled one by one. This would not be an exception.

The poet sat up in what appeared to be his own bed, judging by the discolorations where he had touched it with wine-stained hands. It made the situation seem progressively more unlikely, almost as though he was in a dream still. As he bit on his lip while thinking, however, Joe quickly made the deduction that he was in fact awake, judging by the sharp sting that went through them when his teeth accidentally lost their grip. His eyes darted around to see another bed standing there, with another person still sleeping in it. A blonde mess of hair was visible from under the blankets, and soft nonsensical mutterings occasionally drifted over towards Joe.

“Hmmm…? The bookboinger needs more beans… more beans I tell you… gravity? No, this isn’t void golf…”

It wasn’t hard to reason that he was looking at Zedaph, and somewhere, Joe was glad that he wasn’t alone there, wherever _there_ was. It was nice to have someone to talk to, as well as more eyes and more hands to figure out a way back to their respective bases. Perhaps it was better to just wake him up, so they could get to moving out of the flickering torchlight and into a place with some more sophisticated illumination. That, or sunlight. Sunlight sounded good.

Joe slipped out of bed, and the floor gave a little bit of way under his feet.

_Click._

Before his brain could even parse what was happening, sudden music sounded all around him, but it wasn’t one of the music disks he knew. No, this sounded… More handmade.

“What? Huh? Yeah, yeah, I’m awake, I am _totally_ awake, yes, have been for quite a while!” Zedaph shot up in his bed, in such a hurry to get out that he managed to get tangled in the blankets and instead fell face first on the floor. “Oof. Oh, hi Joe. Why are you in my… _Not_ my cave? And where is this music coming from? It’s good music, I have to say, but… Yeah.”

The poet couldn’t help but smile, and he held out a hand to pull the other man up. It seemed like there were pressure plates put in a few strategic places around the beds, which at the very least solved the mystery of what had caused the music. Of course, it didn’t solve the deeper riddles of who had put it there, or why they were in this place, but everything in due time.

“Well, I have no idea why I am in _not_ your cave, but when you really look at it, isn’t everything but your cave _not_ your cave? I mean, my winery certainly is _not_ your cave, and there’s quite some places underground that, while they would definitely qualify as ‘caves’, are not your cave specifically. That being said, I have no memory of actually consciously moving from _my_ part of not your cave to this part of not your cave, and I had hoped you would have some answers.”

In the meanwhile, Zedaph had accepted his hand, getting up and looking around some more. The music continued playing its dulcet tones, and Joe swore there was something familiar about the melody, about the way it flowed together. His brain just didn’t want to tell him what it was.

“That’s not good then, is it? Oh well. So. If I’m correct, we’re in… I’d reckon one of those mesa mineshaft thingamajigs. Which narrows down where we are by quite a bit, but nowhere near enough to actually be able to pinpoint it exactly. Luckily for us, _I_ have my communicator with me,” Zedaph said, grinning while nodding his head slowly, as though he was trying to look cool. Then he whipped out his communicator and started pressing buttons on it.

The longer he looked, the more his brows furrowed.

Joe just looked on, trying to take a peek at the screen, before Zed nodded a few times, very slowly this time around.

“Okay, so, I have good news and I have bad news. I’m going to go with the good news first! I now know our coordinates!” he said enthusiastically.

The poet raised an eyebrow.

“And the bad news? Are we many leagues away from our homes? Do we need to walk all the way back?”

“Nope! The bad news is that I have _no_ idea where these coordinates are compared to any of our bases!” For some reason, Zed sounded just as enthusiastic as when he was bringing the good news, and Joe couldn’t help but sigh.

“You don’t know roughly what the coordinates to your base are? Or to the shopping district? How do you even get around?”

Zedaph shrugged.

“Trial and error, mostly. And wasted rockets. So many wasted rockets. Hmm, I should make a contraption that helps me make more rockets, that sounds like a good idea for when we get back… But! For now I think we should start going in… _THAT_ direction!” He was pointing towards where the room they were in turned to an inky darkness, courtesy of there simply not being more torches hanging from the walls. Joe looked at it, then around the room.

“Well, it seems to be to only really visible way out indeed. I don’t see why not.” The poet shrugged before walking over to one of the sconces and prying the torch from it. Zedaph quickly moved over to do the same, and before too long the duo found themselves walking through a long hallway in what seemed to be an abandoned mine. The fading music behind them still played on and on, seemingly repeating seamlessly every time it got to the end. Or perhaps it was simply a very long song, that was also possible.

Somewhere up ahead, the hallway turned, and light came from around the corner. It probably wasn’t lava, they would have smelt and heard that, so it was probably something that had been put there by someone. Joe held out his hand, and Zedaph bumped into it. Before the latter could say something, though, the poet was already shushing him.

“Sssh! There’s probably someone up ahead. I’m not sure who, though…”

“Well? Does it matter? Whoever it is, they better have an explanation about what is going on here, or… Or… Or I will file an official complaint! How about that, huh? How about _that_ ,” Zed huffed, toeing the line between seriousness and joke as he generally tended to do. Joe rolled his eyes before retracting his arm again.

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess. Let’s just go and ask. Worst case we respawn back at our- _oh_. _Oh no_. We slept here, respawning won’t help. Hmm…” He thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to deal with a situation in which they didn’t really know _anything_ about what to expect or what was going on. It made planning a real hassle, almost an impossibility even, should he want to go about it without too much speculating and assuming. Doing those kinds of things generally didn’t really help and could even get one stuck in a specific idea to the point of self-sabotage. And self-sabotage didn’t sound like the best of ideas at that point. Best to keep it simple and work with what he had, then.

“Okay, change of plans. Core concept: we try _not_ to die to some kidnapping maniac. It’s too early in the year for that kind of Halloween shenanigans.”

“Yep. Yep, yep, yep, that sounds like a good course of action. Let’s go.”

With that, the duo started moving again, creeping up on the corner before carefully looking around it. What they saw was… Well. It was not what they expected. If he was being honest, Joe wasn’t too sure what he had been expecting either.

It almost looked like an office. It still had the same terracotta walls, but it was lit up with jack-o-lanterns instead of torches, and Joe was reasonably sure that desks generally weren’t made out of beehouses. There was a blue fire crackling in a hearth made from composters, and someone was sitting in a minecart, his back turned to them. It wasn’t hard to realise who it was, though, unless someone had taken up the noble art of wig-making to produce a light-grey facsimile of Etho’s hair.

Just as Joe was about to look at Zedaph for some ide as to what to do next, Etho pressed a button and the minecart started moving, making a half-circle before stopping. He was looking at them now, petting an arctic fox on his lap, and suddenly the poet knew where he recognised the music of the alarm from. It sounded like some kind of mafia theme tune, and it seemed like Etho was leaning into the aesthetic.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s finally awake. You are probably wondering why I brought you here,” he started, and there was nothing about him that was indicating this was anything but serious.

Joe stepped forwards, a least a little bit relieved that it had been a friend instead of some enemy that had moved him as he slept, but that didn’t mean he thought it was an acceptable thing to do.

“Well, yeah, I _would_ like to know that, if you don’t mind. Actually, also if you _do_ mind.”

He crossed his arms, staring at Etho, while Zedaph moved up to stand next to him, imitating what he did.

“Yeah!”

“Alrighty then. I brought you here because…” He reached forwards, to his desk, hitting the button on top of it. Immediately, various bits of redstone activated, and multiple things happened at once. Bits of coloured paper started dropping from the ceiling in quick succession, the sound of a triumphant fanfare came from somewhere under them, and one of the walls completely retracted, opening up to show what looked like some palm trees, a pool, and some beach huts standing in the middle of a mesa biome.

“Congratulations! You two have been signed up for Shade-e E’s newest surprise vacation service! Food, drinks, lodging, that’s all arranged for you, so go out and enjoy yourselves!”

Joe just stood, staring from Etho to the pool and back again as the confetti kept raining down on him. Somewhere in his brain the various bits of information he had gained just wouldn’t fit together.

“You kidnapped us… To go on vacation?” he asked, trying to get things to make sense a little bit more. Then again, he was talking to Etho. The man had his own set of rules as to what was logical or not.

“Of course! Wouldn’t quite be a surprise otherwise, now would it? Besides, it’s a proud Canadian custom,” Etho shrugged. Joe raised a finger and opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again when he realised that for once, he was actually stumped for words. Zedaph leaned over to him.

“You know, I _do_ think he has a point there. So uh, race you to the pool?” Zed grinned towards him, and without saying anything more, he just booked it towards the pool, taking off both his shoes and his shirt while he was running. “Auch, auch, aaaah, hot sand, hot sand, hot sand, bad idea, bad idea!”

Meanwhile, the poet just stood there, letting it all sink in. Apparently, he was on vacation now. A vacation organised by Etho, nonetheless.

“So Etho… Just making sure, but you are going to bring us home again, right?” he asked a bit warily. He knew of the other services Shade-e E’s offered, and he was quite sure there simply _had_ to be some kind of catch to it all.

“Ah, yep yep! I gotta keep my customers satisfied, after all. Some time next week you will be returned to your winery once more, don’t worry. Unless of course you want to go sooner, then you’ll just have to unsubscribe from the service. Just a diamond block, to compensate for costs already made.” Despite his face mask, Joe could tell that Etho was smiling, but not maliciously so. Still, when given the choice of either a free week of vacation in a faraway place, or having to somehow procure a diamond block, the decision was easily made.

“Well then. I uh… I guess I have a pool to try out then. Thanks, Etho!” The poet smiled widely, before walking out of the office, shaking the confetti out of his hair.

Yeah, perhaps he could use a vacation.


End file.
